Alone at home but not in heart or head.
A month and an ocean apart -- too long and too far.
The house reminds me of you.
The cats remind me of you.
The dog reminds me of you.
Your car reminds me of you.
My empty arms remind me of you.
It snows on me every day.
I drive through flooded streets wherever I go.
My car won't pass a Yugo.
My Mac thinks it's an IBM PC.
My serves all hit the net.
Every day until June 20 is Monday.
I miss you holding my hand in the car,
giving you backrubs,
watching Sports Sunday with you,
talking to you at lunch,
hurrying home to hug you after work.
hearing your eyes shout "I love you."